


Thom Yorke is overrated (the not today remix)

by rajkumari905



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-09
Updated: 2011-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:17:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rajkumari905/pseuds/rajkumari905
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There are some days when even I think I'm overrated, but not today." - Meryl Streep</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thom Yorke is overrated (the not today remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Thom Yorke is overrated](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/4094) by pailette. 



> Written for the calledmelovely remix challenge on livejournal.

It is fucking _cold_ outside, and David wishes that he were wearing a coat, rather than the thin jacket he's got on. And maybe a real hat instead of the baseball cap, even though it's his favorite Royals cap.

Seriously, the icy winds here are enough to make him regret leaving nice, warm LA for New York. Who needs the normalcy of college life anyway. The coffee shop will be warm though, so he quickens his pace.

He turns the corner, and almost turns right back around, because shit, those girls are standing outside Think Coffee _again_.

If it wasn't so goddamn cold, David would consider heading to another coffee shop instead. After all, there are about thirty decent coffee shops in and around NYU.

Then again, maybe not, because there is no way that he's changing around his habits just because he's famous now. A better strategy to avoid all the squealing girls who seem to have memorized his schedule would maybe be to alternate between a few different places, but David _likes_ Think Coffee. There's free Wi-Fi, and they use fair trade coffee, which is really cool, and they're even sustainability-conscious, which is really important to David, never mind that half the time he forgets to recycle his plastic water bottles.

The atmosphere’s great too; it's well-lit and bright, with plenty of space, comfortable seats, and good music. Often his own music, actually, when the manager notices him walking in, which is somewhere between flattering and embarrassing.

It doesn't matter that there are other coffee shops that may be more convenient or less frequented by his fans, the point is that David likes this coffee shop, and American Idol or not, he's a student at NYU just like any other now, so he can go to whatever coffee shop he wants.

And if he happens to catch sight of a really cute guy who seems to frequent the place, well, that's just an added bonus.

It's not like David has a crush on him, or even has any idea who he is. It's just a passing interest in a relatively attractive person who he's seen a couple times. Honestly, it feels wonderfully normal to see a guy, be a little attracted to him and, consequently, a little curious about him, and to visit the same coffee shop in hopes of seeing him again. To look at him as an anonymous admirer, knowing that in all likelihood, nothing will ever happen.

 _Although_ , seriously, what's the point of being a rockstar if the person he likes doesn't know he exists anyway. Or maybe he knows and he doesn't care, which is probably worse.

David pulls his baseball cap low over his eyes as he approaches the coffee shop, rushing past the girls before they can stop him because it's too cold to be signing autographs today, thanks. His hands are about to fucking fall off.

He shuts his eyes in relief when a wave of warmth hits him as he walks in. Bliss. Except, shit, that was apparently a bad idea, because almost immediately, he collides with a dark-haired someone who's apparently just chilling by the door, as if they have all the time in the world. Seriously?

Still, he looks up to apologize, because rockstar or not, he knows his manners. But then he falters when he realizes that it's _him_ , fuck. Taken by surprise, his tongue ties itself into a knot, making it clear to him that nope, talking is not going to happen at the moment. Instead, he turns around and walks to the counter, distractedly ordering "a coffee, for here, and water, please," even though he totally knows that water is self-serve here.

While he waits for his coffee, he drums his fingers on the counter along with his song which has just started playing over the coffee shop speakers—real subtle, Think Coffee management. He watches out of the corner of his eyes, and flinches as the guy makes a face and looks up at the ceiling. Ohgodohgodohgod. He hates his music, he can’t stand it. And he probably hates David too, fuck.

The guy pays for whatever he ordered with money pulled from his book, because apparently he doesn’t have a wallet like normal people, and then looks around, probably for somewhere to sit.

David loses all subtlety and watches with undisguised interest as the dark-haired guy deposits his things at the purple couch which David knows from experience is the most comfortable in the shop.

A polite cough makes David jump, and oh, his coffee's ready. He thanks the barista and looks around. The place is pretty full today, so much for finding a quiet spot to get some work done. He glances at the purple couch. If he has to sit with someone anyway, he may as well sit with someone attractive. And anyway, he kind of feels obligated to fix this random cute guy's opinion of him, once and for all. He heads over there, meaning to say hello, but as he approaches, the guy goes back to get his order, not even sparing a glance for David as he passes. Damn.

David stands there for a moment, and almost loses his nerve before deciding, fuck it.

He seats himself on the couch and picks up the book that the guy left on the table. It's a book he recognizes, great. That one short story in it was really fantastic. Even better, underneath the book is a stack of sheet music. The guy's a musician! Maybe David would even know him if he were a music major, but the music department is awkward for someone who's already made it. The professors would either fawn over him or resent him, or that's what he imagines anyway. David's studying Digital Communication and Media instead, which is, frankly, a nice break.

David's about to look more closely at the sheet music when he hears someone clear their throat.

"Excuse me, can I—" David looks up, and the guy's right there, drink in one hand and a plate in the other. Shit, he already looks annoyed.

They stare at each other for an instant, and then the guy says, "Sorry, I think, um, you're sitting on my scarf, so."

"Oh!" Oops. "My bad, sorry man, I was—the book. It's a good book."

The guy’s looking at him like he’s an idiot. David should just get up and leave right now. And it doesn't appear that the guy's going to say anything either, so David nervously adds, "The Woman Who Cut Off Her Leg at the Maidstone Club. I love saying that, try saying it five times really fast."

What is he even _talking about_ , fuck. Get it together, David.

"Um, yes, that's an interesting title, can I have it back, unless you wanted to pretend reading it still?"

"Pretend reading... hah!" David likes this guy already; the snarkiness is refreshing. And he obviously has no idea who David is, or doesn't give a damn. "No I wasn't—it's one of my favorites actually. The pudding story especially. Kinda reminds me of Amy Hempel's short stories, what do you think?"

Instead of answering, in a completely bizarre move, the guy thrusts his plate forward. David drops the book as he fumbles to try and catch the dessert, but it lands on his lap instead.

"Uh," David says almost inaudibly as they stare at each other once more, both a little dumbfounded. Then they both unfreeze and David leans down to get the book he dropped, and oh. That would be the guy's hand, caught between his lap and stomach, no doubt trying to retrieve the cake, or whatever it was, on his lap. How does this even _happen_? He thinks briefly about making a 'haha, no way I'm letting you get to third base on the first date' joke, but quickly decides against it. He doesn't think it would go over well.

David can feel himself blushing a little, because, as if this wasn't _already_ the most awkward encounter of his life, seriously. If you'd asked him before, he would have said he's a pretty smooth guy, but apparently he needs to revise that assessment.

He sits back up, laughing awkwardly. At least the guy's face is flushed scarlet too. David stands, brushing crumbs off his legs and says, "Let me get you a new cookie, or what was it, cake?"

The guy is still flushed, avoiding his eyes a little, and he mumbles, "Oh, um, no. No, you don't have to, really, I can just—"

"I insist, here, you can keep my hat as insurance." He pulls it off his head and holds it out earnestly, and then belatedly adds, "My name is David."

The correct response in this situation would be to reciprocate with _his_ name, but the guy's just standing there, staring at him. David stops despairing at his own apparent lack of normal socialization skills and decides to just go with it. He's going to get this guy to not hate him if it's the last thing he does. "C'mon, take it. You can step on it or something if you want revenge for the scarf—which I'm sorry about by the way—chocolate brownie then?"

"Uh. Vegan. Vegan brownie?" The guy says finally, though his tone suggests that he still thinks David is crazy and is just humoring him.

David grins and nods, heading back toward the counter. Vegan brownie, interesting. David was not aware that those existed, actually, and oh, shit, those girls from outside are capitalizing on the moment and approaching him. Shit, go away, not now not now not now.

"Hi, David. Sorry to bother you. Can we have a picture?"

David grins at them, because his fans are amazing and don't deserve any less even if he's totally not in the mood. He puts his arm around two of them and smiles while another takes a photo.

"Thank you so much! I loved your concert last year!"

David nods, and waves, and thanks them, all on autopilot. Then he hurries to the counter and picks up a vegan brownie. It looks pretty decent, he has to admit. Maybe he'll try one some time.

When he goes back to the table, plate in hand, the guy is watching him with an odd look on his face. An _odder_ look. Oh well. David holds the plate out, but pulls it back when the guy reaches out for it.

"Not before you tell me your name, musician."

"How did you know—"

Wonderful, now he probably seems like a creep in addition to a book-stealer and brownie-destroyer. "I saw the sheet music under the book," he explains, and then, not to be deterred. "So what's your name?"

"It's David. You're David Cook."

Well. He really thought that this guy had no idea who he was. Then again, he still isn't fawning over him, so that's something. "Damn, I was hoping you wouldn't. Well. I know my own name, obviously, what's yours?"

"I said it, it's. My name is David too and—it's okay, you can have the brownie."

David smirks a little, and in what he imagines to be a sort of flirtatious, smooth-funny way, he "accidentally" drops the brownie onto the other David's lap. "Hey, now you gotta eat it. David. David what?"

The guy—David—is staring down at his lap in disbelief, but he chooses not to comment on the fallen brownie, instead saying distractedly, "David what, what?"

David blinks, and then laughs a little. "What as in what's your last name?"

In lieu of answering, the other David suddenly thrusts David's hat forward, and almost smacks him in the face. Luckily, David's reflexes are _awesome_.

"Here's your cap." The other David says in a rush, and then, "Archuleta. You left your hat before you. My last name's Archuleta I guess."

David Archuleta is clearly flustered, and somehow, that sets David at ease. He leans back thoughtfully. "Okay Archuleta."

It's kind of a long last name. What David Archuleta needs is a nickname. "Archu. Leta. Archie." Perfect. "Okay, Archie. What kind of music do you study?"

He can totally do this. Small talk about music with a cute guy who's more flustered than he is. No problem.

"Archie? That's not even, um. Not that I mind, it's pretty confusing isn't it. David Cook. Cook?"

A _really_ cute guy, David amends in his head. "Sure, I can be Cook."

"Cook then," the newly christened Archie says, and continues his trend of not answering David's questions by saying, "I know who you are, so it's, isn't it awkward for you? All the time? Here?"

"I'm used to it. Anyway, I don't know if they like my music that much here, so I don't get stopped or anything," David explains, and if he's downplaying a bit, well, he knows how to be modest when he wants to be.

"You shouldn't say that, and um. I thought you played a concert on campus last year? The tickets were probably sold out."

David suppresses a grin, because probably? Probably means that Archie was not part of the crowd that was packed so tight, David was sure that they were breaking fire codes, the crowd that was one of the loudest that David's ever played for. And that? That's saying a lot.

"You weren't in the audience I take it," he says, and can't resist looking Archie up and down a little, from his converses to his pretty hazel eyes. He's _really_ cute.

The look on Archie’s face says he's totally been caught, but David doesn't even care. "No, I'm not really," Archie starts, and then amends, "I'm sure it was nice!"

"Not into rock?" David asks, because that could maybe be a deal-breaker. Then again, with a guy as cute as Archie, maybe not.

"No, that's not it, I promise, I'm sure—"

"Not into 'Idol' rock?" because yeah, that was about his attitude before he went on the show.

Archie's flushed again, and he waves his arms around as he protests, "Oh gosh, I should've just gone, now you're going to keep—"

David grins, because seriously, Archie is _adorable_. "Hey, hey, no worries, just teasing you," he reassures him, and pats him on the knee.

"I promise, I don't like, hate your music or anything. It's just, I haven't even heard it, so—" Archie says earnestly, still looking a little uncomfortable.

"They're playing it right now. Have been since I got here—really subtle of them too," David tells him, because they have, and yeah, it will never not be weird to hear his own voice playing out over the speakers in a coffee shop. Weird and _really_ cool.

He puts his coffee down, and fidgets a little as Archie tilts his head up to listen. It's—his 'Idol' coronation song is what's on, which. It's definitely not the first choice of song off of which he'd want someone judging his music. He messes with his hair for something to do before giving up and pulling his baseball cap back on. He eyes Archie's expression critically, and yeah, that's definitely not omg! this is awesome!!!11one1.

"You shouldn't judge me off of this though," he says abruptly, and then he has an idea. "I bet I could—do you mind earphones?"

Archie shakes his head slowly, looking bewildered, and watches David pull his iPod out of his pocket. David reaches out and puts one of the buds into Archie's ear, making Archie jump a little, and takes the other for himself, thumbing through his playlists and trying to decide what sort of song Archie would like best.

When he's finally settled on one, he announces, "Found it," triumphantly, and looks up to see that Archie's already dropped his earbud. "Now listen," he tells him, and puts the earbud back into Archie's ear to emphasize his point.

He presses play and lets the guitar music wash over him and feels a familiar sense of pride, because this? This is all him. He _made_ this. He may not be the most talented or the most famous (actually, he's pretty positive that he _wouldn't_ want to be the latter) or hell, even anywhere close to that, but he's accomplished something. He's made music and it's pretty awesome.

He nods along with the beat, smiling to himself and remembering being in the studio and singing his heart out with his best friends shooting him thumbs ups through the glass.

And then suddenly, he looks around and, _what the fuck is he doing_? His thigh is pressed to Archie's, his hand is wrapped intimately around the back of his neck, he's leaning in close, as if—he doesn't even _know_ this guy, not really.

He can _feel_ the tension rolling off of Archie in waves, even as David's fingertips tap along to the beat of the music _against his fucking skin_ , what is _wrong_ with him?

He scoots away abruptly, pausing the music and pulling the earbud away. Archie probably didn't want to hear it anyway, except for how David totally _forced_ it on him. He's so stupid, what was he even, there go _his_ chances. Apologize. Right. He needs to apologize.

"I don't—sorry, I don't know why I just did that—" he blurts, and he can't stop fidgeting nervously, about ten times more flustered than he felt when Archie's hand was in his fucking lap.

Archie's just sitting there, half-smiling in a confused sort of way, and David feels even worse, moving over to put even more distance between them. Of course he would royally fuck things up, of course. Just when he was starting to—he only wanted to get Archie's approval somehow, and.

Archie blinks at him. "Wait, why did you stop it?"

"Dude, I don't even know why—what does it matter if you—" He stops. Deep breath. Try again. "This is gonna sound so weird, I promise I don't mean anything by it, but. I really want you to like me for some reason—"

Ohgod, shit, FUCK, that is most definitely _not_ what he meant to say.

"—Shit, that came out—I meant my music. I wanted you to like my music, I know I don't even know you, but I'm. Going to stop talking now. I'll even move if you want."

"Um, all the seats are taken—it's five pm?" Archie says slowly, and David looks around distractedly to see that he's right, fuck. Never mind, he doesn't need another seat, what he needs is another coffee shop, another university, possibly another state.

"Cook? I'll, I can listen, I want to listen again. If you don't mind?"

David lets out a breath. And then another. Archie's looking up at him, almost concerned, and painfully earnest. David laughs a little, and some of the tension seeps out of his body.

"Okay. Yeah." He presses play, and then pauses it after barely a moment to add, "Sorry for being weird, man."

Archie laughs at him a little, but it's not at all malicious, and he's smiling softly when he says, "Press play, Cook," so David does.

He still can't quite stop himself from fidgeting nervously as Archie listens. Pleasepleaseplease let him like it. Or at least not hate it. The song finishes, and they both just sit there in silence for a couple seconds, just enough for David to start to imagine that Archie's working out how to tell him that his music sucks, fuck. But then, Archie looks at him again, the same soft smile on his face. Damn, he has a nice smile.

"Play me another one?"


End file.
